Sometimes, the Morning
by vanhunks
Summary: Unimatrix Zero story. Tom and Chakotay go in search of the others on the Borg vessel. Things happen...


sometimes ****

Sometimes, the morning...

by 

vanhunks

Rating: PG-13

Code: P

Summary:Borg assimilation is a serious thing. Tom AND Chakotay go in search of the others on the Borg vessel. 

Disclaimer: I wish I had seen this on Unimatrix Zero. Paramount owns them all, I know. King of the Mountain. 

****

Sometimes, the morning

The sounds were muted, ordered. Figures moved about with economy of movement, perhaps just enough to plot a direct course between one station or work bench to the next. Unhurried movements that through it revealed the supreme quest for zero defect, and with it, absolute and imperious assertion of a highly organised and uncontested hive mind. The dream of teamwork, the red-uniformed officer thought as he moved with cat-like stealth along one of the walkways. 

Along certain portions of walkways were lighted floor grates. Figures could be seen patrolling these areas. The labyrinthine corridors and walkways were dark, with only occasional yellow orbs that perched high above them in panels, their lights progressively weakening the further it had to travel to illuminate the vast areas below. It gave the ship a steel-grey colour, a kind of dull monochromatic view that turned the figures moving about and the colossal structures of waveguide conduits, neural transponders, subcommand stations, power systems, and thousands of alcoves into a living vessel that breathed as one. 

The tricorder flickered continuously, spewing data, little lights of orange and red and green that flickered, collected, stored, and computed. Chakotay peered in the semi-dark at the instrument that would sense the presence of those they were searching for.

"This way," he told his companion as he moved swiftly and with great purpose in a ninety degree turn to enter the next long passage, his feet nimble as he charted the catwalk-like structure that served as walkways. 

Tom held his hand close to his phaser. 

"Aye, Commander," he replied, shuddering as he passed the silent figures in their alcoves. 

One or two yellow lights high above them threw the drones into relief, giving an eerie feel to the already darkened labyrinths through which he and Chakotay advanced towards one sector of the cube. The drones did not move from their alcoves, staring straight ahead, appearing ghostly, dead. These were not the ones they were looking for as Tom took the medical tricorder and scanned them as he walked past. He gave a shudder. There would be traces of human and Klingon DNA present, and none of the drones he scanned were either B'Elanna, the Captain or Tuvok. 

"We'll get you, I swear, B'Elanna" he vowed silently as one drone moved from his alcove and proceeded like a sleepwalker in the opposite direction. 

"As long as I don't threaten you, right?" he muttered as he passed them. 

Chakotay had already vanished round the next angled turn, and Tom hurried down the walkway to keep within sight of the commander. The massive steel structures appeared intimidating, and Tom was dwarfed by the size of the vast chamber Chakotay reached. The steel-grey colours enhanced the image of oneness of the Borg vessel. Tom wanted to make some smart ass comment about the ship needing a paint job, but all thought of their fellow officers who were here on the ship in some chamber, assimilated, different, no identity except for some lost DNA strands, drowned out his wisecracks. 

"Here..." 

Tom took his eyes off the tricorder and looked at Chakotay. It was difficult to define the commander's feelings. He looked closed, his eyes shuttered. Yet Tom knew Chakotay would not have risked so much in leaving Voyager to find the Captain. That more than anything bespoke of the Commander's feelings which he rigidly controlled while they remained searching.

"We're getting close, Commander," he replied in a voice that rose suddenly as he felt the adrenaline rush. 

There was a slight shift in the tone of the sounds, the movements of those drones which worked on repairs. The hive mind sensor picked up the alien presence. They were already being scanned...

"We must hurry, though, before the Collective voice - "

Both officers stilled suddenly. They were in a chamber which contained alcoves that somehow appeared different. 

"Zero One..." Tom whispered. He felt an irrational fear he tried to bank down as several drones stepped out of their alcoves.

"Trouble..." he whispered as his hand reached for his phaser. "Doc had better - "

"Too late, Tom," came Chakotay's voice above the sounds of the drones' footsteps. 

"No..."

Tom looked round, saw several drones behind him. He swiveled on his heels, already dazed as if he had been given a sedative to relax his muscles. They came nearer. Chakotay fired, the phazer fire bouncing off the drones. Advancing on them, Tom hit his commbadge.

No answering beep.

Unrecognisable, armoured, dangerous, the drones closed in.

"Chak - " Tom still tried to call as he saw the Commander's face contort while two thin metallic fangs emerged from a drone's hand and sank deep into Chakotay's neck.

A hellish scream. And then another.

It was not his voice that rang out in the chamber.

In a desperate attempt to move away from them, Tom turned again.

"No!" he cried as a hand reached for him. 

His eyes widened, his mouth gaped. The protuding fangs came closer.

Closer.

"Resistance is futile..."

Thousands of voices. One voice. 

Tom's eyes bulged, the sound of a scream died in his throat. He saw the fingers. Metallic fingers.

It felt cold. The drone was cold. It had eyes, prosthetic implants everywhere. Then a sting as the twin spikes pierced his neck skin. 

Flooding waters of an underground river. 

Rush...rush... his final awareness, his final conscious thought was the image of that hand against his neck. He saw on the finger, something that shone...shone...

kaladian diamond. 

Pain.

DNA sequencing of human Tom Paris scrambled. Make way for Borg nanoprobes and new DNA fresh blood. No PARIS I.D.DNA. Pain as cells begin to mutate to resemble...nothing...everything...DNA regeneration in progress...

Facial muscles contort, arms flail helpless as Borg identity starts to assert.

You will comply paris, thomas eugene, son of paris, owen admiral, resistance is futile. 

I am Thomas Eugene Paris.

parisborgdrone - 010110101101010111010...resistance... is futile

You will relinquish your individuality.

An image. Half01human01halfKlingon. A room. A table. A ring slides on to a finger. Kaladian diamond. The real ones. 

I love you, Tom Paris.

Fleeting image flits away. A hand. Borg implants. Palm down. ring with kaladian diamond on Borg hand. Borg hand...

B'Elanna, before you go, will you wear this ring? Please? It will make me very happy, even if it's against Starfleet regulations.

Pain.

Terror.

Release and comply. 

Pain.

pain is irrelevant.paris is irrelevant. 

You are B'Elanna... There is a ring.

I am the Collective.

A thousand images crowd. Conscious thoughts are fragments of memory. Memory fragments. Fragments. Fragme - fragm - ments. 

Don't die, B'Elanna. Son, men make mistakes. Tom, don't hide your credentials.

I am a flyerflyer.

We are one. You must comply.

My name is Thom- no paris eugene. Tmesprseugene - tomparis - 0111010101.

Comply.

My mane -nme to-m -as p-r-s.

You will be one-many-one-voice-welcome UNIMATRIXOI

Thomas Eugene Paris. 010101 I am the son of Admiral Owen Paris. I serve on the federation vessel USS Voyager. I am an individual 0101010101with independent thought... 

Listen to the voice of Locutus. Locutus? Picard? Locutus. Make it so! Mommy....? Annika, hide...hide...hide, baby...! Tom, he's a pig and so are you.

B'Elanna? Species 332 unknown, assimilated for regenerative ability. Probability factor in assimilating Species 8472 neglible...negligible...nil...zero. No...no, not Tuvok.01010101 Tuvok? Species 2134 unique0101 Here's the deal Paris: you saved my life. My life belongs to you... 

Chakotay... 

Thoma Eugene0101010101 01101010101 Paris. I am the son 0101010 the son the son 01101010101of Admiral Owen Paris. 0101010101I serve on the 1101010101 federation vessel USS Voyager. Delta Quadrant orphans on our 0101journey 010101 long 01101010101way home. Icheb? Mezoti? Comply unimatrix 0101010101 01101010101 unimatrix matrix 0101010101 01101010101

Thomeu-01010101icheb010101i love you0101love001

you. son of admirals. Create order in your mind.

hey, Tom! have you set a date? date you 0101

set a date? set a date? a date?010101

mission0001failed---comply...unimatrix01

we speak as 010101oneoneoneoneone

noindividualityvoicevoice010101

new designation

borg collective

designation

01010101

onevoice

comply

order...

i am

borg

01

01

01

I am Borg...I am Borg...I am Borg...

Sound. far off. away in deep subconscious. move. move. metallic sound. welcome. not 01 not 01 not 01. beep. beep. beep. beep. comply. do not comply. sound too close to individual consciousness. too close. not hive mind. not 01. 

tom...

tom...

wake up... a hand on his shoulder. 

open eyes. daze. 

who?

harry. harry? harry.

sit up, tom paris. 

"Dark enough for ya?"

A gasp. Perspiration on his brow. Deep frown. Gasp. Jerk up. Eyes wide. Tom looks around him. A dark purplish-blue nightie lies at the edge of the bed. He touches the side of the bed. Pillow smells familiar. Perfume. Slumps back again and pulls the perfumed pillow to cover his face. 

B'Elanna... 

His voice is muffled.

"Harry? It's you?"

"Who did you think it is? The Borg?"

A long sigh. 

He sits up again, pulls Harry closer. Tom's face is sickly pale, a grey brought on by rising nausea. His eyes burn into Harry Kim, and his lips quiver when he speaks:

"Sometimes, Harry, the morning is the best place to be..."

****

END


End file.
